Lent 5: When Jesus Makes You a Party Planner

“In a group, if everybody thinks about the other person’s needs, everyone’s needs are actually fulfilled in the end. But if you only think about yourself, you are breaking that contract.” ― Priya Parker, The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters

Scripture John 6
After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias.  A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming towards him, Jesus said to Philip, ‘Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?’ He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, ‘Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.’ One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, ‘There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?’ Jesus said, ‘Make the people sit down.’ Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all.Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, ‘Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.’ So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, ‘This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.’

When Jesus Makes you a Party Planner
Every Gospel tells the story of Jesus feeding 5,000 people.

Every single one. And often the text will say 5,000 people—plus women and children. Just so we’re clear, they counted certain people, but they wanted to really point out how many people were there so they added this women and children bit. And if you’re a preacher, you always want the full count.

Every Gospel tells this story. The Synoptic Gospels—which is just a fancy way of referring to the Gospels that are most alike: Matthew, Mark, and Luke and then the Gospel of John which is typically off doing its own thing. They share many of the same details, along with small differences that invite us to look more closely and ask deeper questions.

So I want to invite us into this story. It’s one we’ve heard before, one we know well. And some of you might be thinking, “Yes, we know—Jesus talks about bread all the time. He feeds people all the time.”

And yet, here it is again.

To the Wilderness
In every version of the story, this moment comes just after the death of John the Baptist. He has been killed by the state, largely because he asked hard questions and spoke uncomfortable truths—things that Herod the Great's son Herod Antipas did not want to hear.

John is executed, his head presented as a trophy to a dancing daughter.

Jesus hears this news. He loved John, followed John and maybe he needed some space to rest. Maybe he notices that the disciples are tired, worn down and heart broken. So he says, “Let’s go away. Let’s go to the wilderness. Let’s rest.”

And they do.

But in every Gospel, the crowds follow them. They find them, like a flock of little ducklings longing after their mother, they follow. Maybe they are also grieving and afraid of the state's violence. Maybe they sense something happening with Jesus and want to be near it. Maybe they carry needs they cannot fully explain but feel drawn to bring into his presence.

So they follow.

And they end up in a deserted place. There’s no convenience here. No easy access to food. No Starbucks or McDonalds on the corner. It is, truly, the wilderness.

Snorting Mad
And Jesus begins to teach. He begins to heal. The text says, over and over, that he is moved with compassion. That sounds gentle and beautiful. Butanchint manuscript scholar Bruce Metzer suggests that the original language carries more weight than that.

There are early texts that point to a deeper, more visceral meaning. This is not just compassion as tenderness. It is something felt in the gut. Sometimes this word is applied to horses snorting.  Something urgent. Something that demands action. In a sense you might say, Jesus is snorting mad or “explitive’ pissed. 

Metzger says later scribes must have started to feel uncomfortable with Jesus being angry and chose language more resonant with compassion. But Jesus is not simply observing suffering. He is moved by it, deeply and physically. And he names what he sees: “They are like sheep without a shepherd.”

This is a powerful image in the Hebrew tradition. Good leaders are described as good shepherds. Bad leaders are those who fail to care for the people, kings who care only for their own wealth. The prophets, especially in books like Book of Ezekiel, critique kings and community members that neglect the common good.

So when Jesus says, they are like sheep without a shepherd it doesn't mean that they don’t have a leader. They have a ruler but he doesn’t care for their wellbeing. He doesn’t lead them to still water to be refreshed or to green pastures to be nourished. Bad Shepherds, leave the sheep to the wolves and the wilderness. Jesus sees people unprotected, exploited and afraid and he says, “They are like sheep without a shepherd.”

You give them something to Eat
So Jesus steps into that space. He teaches. He heals. He stays present. He is moved and he takes care of real needs for real people. And then it starts to get late.

The disciples, understandably, begin to wonder what is happening. They are supposed to be resting and this was not in the plan. They come to Jesus and say, “It’s getting late. Send the people away so they can find something to eat.”

But Jesus responds, “You give them something to eat.”

It’s terse, direct and sharp. It’s immediate. There is probably a sigh of disappointment that they still don’t understand what following Jesus requires of them. 

The disciples do the math. It would take six months wages to feed this crowd and that’s not even much of a buffet–it’s sparse and not very filling. Even if they had all that money in a purse, there is nowhere to buy food.

Then Jesus asks a different question: “What do you have?”
So they take stock of what they already have and every story there is five loaves and two fish. Probably dried fish—something they brought with them to take care of themselves out in the wilderness. But “What is this in the face of so many?”

In the Gospel of John, there’s this moment where Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, points out a kid with five barley loaves and two fish. And maybe he’s being sincere or maybe there’s a little bit of snark in it (which is my favorite way to imagine this story). A child has five barley loaves and two fish. 

And the thing is, this child brought his little ancient mediterranean bento box and the disciples brought some bread and fish, other people probably did too. That is the nature of going to the wilderness in the ancient world. 

As historian Raymond E. Brown notes, barley was the food of poverty. Often the bread in this story isn’t named as barley bread but the Gospel of John pushes this detail further. They are eating bread made of barley even if they grow wheat. It’s a reminder of the Roman Empire's needs for cash crops to feed folks in other regions, folks who are citizens. 

So this story begins with scarcity and structures of oppression. Then Jesus takes the loaves and the fishes and he turns them into abundance. 

Leftovers
Jesus takes what is offered. He blesses it. He breaks it. He gives thanks.

And then he has everyone sit down. In a group, sometimes fifty or a hundred. They’re on grass…green space in the middle of the wilderness. It echoes Psalm 23. Sheep resting in green pastures. The image glows with new life. 

And then everyone eats.

Most of the time, we talk about this miracle as if food just appeared—like manna from heaven. But the text doesn’t actually say that. There certainly are echoes of Exodus. But it doesn’t say that God rains down bread from on high.

What happens is this: people share. They sit in groups where they can see one another, where they can respond to one another. And suddenly, there is enough. More than enough. No organization. No application for non-profit status. No building. No strategic plan or imperial mandate. Everyday people eating their food together. 

Just people, sharing what they have. And at the end, Jesus says, “Gather what remains, so that nothing is lost.” There are twelve baskets of food left over.

These folks who didn’t think they had enough money and enough food to provide, suddenly have more than enough. 

The Bread King
In the Gospel of John, the story ends with an unexpected twist. The people try to take Jesus and make him king by force. They see someone who can provide bread and they want to hold onto that. He can be their bread King.

But Jesus evades and leaves. They missed the point. The point isn’t that he will do this for them again and again. The point is that they can do this together. That they can organize themselves. That they can care for one another. That they can make sure everyone is fed.

John isn’t the only gospel where folks don’t quite catch on, in Matthew and Mark a chapter later, they feed 4,000 folks…plus all the women and children and the disciples still struggle when Jesus reminds them to do their job and find folks some food to share. 

Jesus is inviting them to become the hosts and there is tension because they don’t want to do it. Jesus asks them to be the planners. The ones who make space and share what they have. And he asks us the same thing. “You give them something to eat.”

When God makes you a party planner.
We come back to this again and again—how we gather, how we invite, how we do this work with intention. In The Art of Gathering, Priya Parker writes that many groups struggle with “a well-meaning desire not to offend that devolves into a habit of saying nothing that matters.” 

Jesus doesn’t do that. He is direct. He presses. He invites people to rethink what they are doing and why. What is the purpose of this gathering? What are we actually here for?

He reshapes the table. Not around status, but around shared nourishment. Not passive hospitality, but intentional care. Early Christians become famous for hospitality, so famous even Roman middle managers try to figure out what they are doing so well. Paul’s followers will have to learn new table manners and then some of them, like the folks in Corenth, will have to get a follow up note  or two from their pastor. 

And we are in a time when many people feel like they are in the wilderness. Wondering what to do. Wondering who will fix things. Wondering who will make it better. They are like sheep without a shepherd. And Jesus turns to us and says, just like he did then:

“You give them something to eat.” May we have the courage.

May it be so.

Amen.

Journal:When have you organized a dinner or a party or a feast? What do you like about it? What do you struggle with? How do you ask for help when you need it? What party host have you learned from,  watched, studied or perhaps had the pleasure of learning from.